She faced him, now resolute and eager. "I am not a fairy princess, I am not a witch. As a matter of fact, I am a very commonplace person who is obliged to earn a living one way or another, and it isn't always a simple thing to do. Tip to this instant, I hadn't the remotest thought of becoming a governess. I don't know what came over me unless it was loneliness, thinking of my little brothers and sisters at home. When I first saw you and the children nothing was farther from my mind than the thought that has just come into it. I DO love children. I want work, Mr. Bingle. I am self-supporting. No matter what may have been my ambition up to five minutes ago, I am content to put it aside, I am willing to undertake--" "My dear young lady," broke in Mr. Bingle, who had been slow to grasp her meaning and even slower to recover from his stupefaction; "you--you really have knocked me silly. I hadn't the faintest idea--" "May I apply to Mrs. Bingle to-morrow?" she asked nervously, interrupting him with unintentional rudeness. "I have no references to give as a governess, but I--I think I can convince Mrs. Bingle that I would be quite capable. Do you think there would be a chance for me if I--" Mr. Bingle broke in once more, this time with acute enthusiasm. "Don't wait till to-morrow," he exclaimed. "Do it to-day! To-morrow may be too late. Harkins, drive to the nearest public telephone. We will call up the intelligence office and see if Mrs. Bingle has been there yet. If she hasn't--" "Is she looking for a governess in an intelligence office?" cried Miss Colgate, in dismay. "Certainly! Where else? Oh, I see," he made haste to add, sensing her expression; "it isn't the place to find high-grade governesses, eh? Well, all the better for us! We'll head her off. Climb in, Miss--Miss--" "Fairweather, Mr. Bingle," said she, and it was the first time in two years that she had called herself by that name. Of all the millions of human beings in New York, but one knew that her name was Fairweather--and she had quarrelled with him. She had told Dick Flanders. He was the kind of man that women tell things to without reserve or without considering the consequences. "Move up, Frederick," commanded Mr. Bingle. "Make room for Miss Fairweather. She's going to be the new governess. Lively, Harkins! The nearest telephone. No! Not that saloon over there. Tackle an apartment house. Well, well, Miss Fairweather, this is just like a fairy story after all. I told you that I believed in fairies, didn't I?"